Sunfall
by Wyverwithy
Summary: Dawnkit is an ordinary kit raised within ThunderClan. Her only goal in life is to serve her Clan to the best of her abilities, as any cat hopes for. However, something begins to dwell beyond the solidity of the forest with a single goal: to break down both minds and bodies as wrathfully and as slowly as possible. Dawnkit's dreams of her future start to become a living nightmare.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Five cats walked through that forest. With practiced ease and agility, they weaved through clusters of undergrowth and leapt over fallen logs. However, their pace was slow. Cautious. None of them dared make a sound, ears pricked intently on their surroundings. The only thing breaking the uneasy silence of the group was the low hum of crickets and the restless movement of night-dwelling birds in the canopy above. Slivers of moonlight peeked through oak and maple leaves, casting pale cat-claw markings on the cats' rugged, longhaired coats.

In lead was a tortoiseshell-and-white molly, golden eyes piercing the darkness. Unlike the others, her body was relaxed, her face placid—almost vacant of emotion. Her long, thin whiskers twitched only occasionally when she happened to detect the movement of a mouse nearby.

An aged tom, who looked anything other than tranquil, remained at her flank. His orange hues flickered to their surroundings, even at the slightest of sounds. An intense, nervous expression was etched across his silvering features. He was the first to break the tense quiet, though his voice was hardly above a whisper. Behind him, a ginger tom startled. "Are you sure you know where you're going?"

As if she'd anticipated the question, the calico molly responded immediately, "We're nearly there. I wouldn't drag you out here if I couldn't remember."

"I hope to StarClan above this is worth it," a tortoiseshell grumbled behind them, golden eyes flashing. "You ought to know that I was assigned for dawn patrol tomorrow, so I can't waste precious shut-eye on cats who cry fox…"

The ginger tom at her side murmured his agreement in an equal amount of bitterness. He was still making an attempt at smoothing his fur down.

"I take these matters seriously," the calico assured, struggling to keep the edge out of her voice.

The gray-and-white patched molly at the far back looked the least concerned, aside from the cat in lead. "If it means anything, _I_ trust you," she called.

"Well, _I'm_ her sister. I get to be pissy with her as I please," the tortoiseshell spat. The patched molly only giggled softly in response.

As the ginger tom opened his mouth to add in his opinion, the gray tabby cut in. "Quiet, all of you. I understand that we've interrupted your sleep, but this is a serious case and—"

"We don't even know _what_ this serious case is, though," the ginger tom butt in, looking irritated. His voice was still hoarse with exhaustion. "You just said that you'd elaborate as we got there, but you haven't explained _foxdung_."

The gray tabby shot him a glare, and he flinched. "I mean—with all due respect, sir…" he added quietly.

There was a long stretch of silence in return. Having leapt over a large, moss-covered log, and all but the calico jumping in alarm at an undetected mouse, the gray tabby and the molly apparently felt no need to respond. The other three shared puzzled and annoyed looks.

When it became almost suffocating, the gray tabby finally opted to speak, "Well-"

"No. They can use their eyes," the tortoiseshell-and-white said flatly, pelt prickling with irritability. "The longer we doddle with chatter, the longer it'll take to get there."

The four other cats gave her an almost dismayed look, losing the voices in their throats. Wordlessly, they obliged to her word, and continued trekking after her. The forest's eerie ambience only made the dread pooling in their stomachs fester.

. . . . . . .

It felt like moons had passed by the time they reached their destination.

A tunnel, made out of a hard, almost stone-like surface yawned before them. Lying several whiskers above it was the Thunderpath. It was silent. Vacant of life.

"Is this the place?" the gray tabby asked slowly. He wasn't the only one that looked nervous.

The molly in lead took a step forward to sniff at the damp ground before the tunnel's mouth, her brows creased in confusion. She didn't respond.

" _Well?_ " her sister huffed.

"It…" She lifted her head, staring at the entrance. For the first time in the entire night, true emotion etched her features. Dismay. "I could have sworn…"

The ginger tabby tom groaned, "StarClan's sake! I knew we shouldn't have trusted her!"

"Silence, Foxfur," the gray tabby snapped. He then shifted his attention back to the molly. He frowned at her quizzically as she continued to pace, sniffing at every corner of the entrance. Her tail began to lash as she became more and more agitated. "This _is_ the place, isn't it?"

The calico whirled to face them, hackles raised. "Of course it is!"

"Then what in Silverpelt's name is so special about this place?" the tortoiseshell asked, eyes narrowed. "Was this really worth dragging an entire patrol over here?"

"They have a point…" the gray-and-white patched cat murmured, striding closer. Her tone was significantly gentler than the others'. "Why did you bring us here?"

She stared at all four of them. Her mouth was open, as if she were struggling with an answer. Now that they were at the edge of the forest, the night seemed more blatantly silent. Not even the crickets dared make a sound. Nothing moved on the Thunderpath's surface. The tunnel was equally as still. Finally, she heaved out a breath. She straightened up to recollect herself. She gazed at them all flatly, her face resuming its empty expression.

"I found a body here. A cat's body, but of which Clan they belonged to, I couldn't tell. They were ripped to shreds so brutally that I couldn't make out any specific details, and their body was covered in the scent of ShadowClan."

They stared at her, stunned. They then stared at her paws, where they assumed the body might have been.

"But…" The patched molly was the first to speak. "If they were covered in ShadowClan's scent, wouldn't they be a member of ShadowClan?"

"Their pelt wasn't dark enough," the molly elaborated. "And, seeing as the body was located right in front of ShadowClan's tunnel, it'd be fair to assume…"

"...They were chased out and murdered," the gray tabby finished. His orange eyes were as wide as full moons.

She nodded slowly. They all exchanged nervous glances.

"But if a body _was_ here, where's all the blood?" the tortoiseshell asked quietly. Her voice wavered ever so slightly. "And I don't smell anything but the rank scent of the Thunderpath..there's no signs of a scuffle…"

The tortoiseshell-and-white sighed, looking back to the tunnel. "I have no idea. That's the one thing I can't tell you. It was here when I left to fetch you. That's...that's all I know."

Foxfur stepped back, fluffed up to twice his size. "I-I don't like this," he whimpered. "W-we should head back, before...s-something happens to us, too."

"No." The gray tabby didn't look in his direction, his voice firm. "We're investigating every stretch of this area. If what she says is true, we need to get every scrap of information possible."

The calico looked away, directing her attention to the Thunderpath as they began to converse. Her tail swished idly behind her, claws sheathing and unsheathing into the soil. The only sign of her rising anxiety.

Grinding her teeth, she put her paws on the small, grassy slope. She began to heave herself up to the 'path, her breathing shallow. When she finally reached the top, her golden eyes traced the glossy black surface. She averted her attention to either end of it, in search of the telltale eyes she'd heard in folkstories. Up here, she felt exposed. The rank scent of toxic, hot fumes muffled her senses and made her eyes burn. Even so, she remained.

A loud voice split the air, jarring her from her concentration. "Hey! Be careful up there!"

She glanced over her shoulder. Down below, the patrol was looking at her with concerned eyes. It was her sister who had spoken, looking especially on edge.

"I'm investigating. Keep your tail on," she retorted. She shifted her attention back to the road. Her lungs constricted.

"Can you see anything?" the patched molly queried.

Her response was delayed. After staring at the Thunderpath for a little too long, she eyed her far right. Something in the distance caught her attention. "...Graystar, I think you should take a look at this."

Her sister asked slowly, "Should we head up there, too?"

"No! Nope!" Foxfur interrupted, voice high with fear. "We'll, uh, we'll s-stay down here and watch your backs, just—just in case!"

"Foxfur's right. You three stay down here. We won't be long," Graystar commanded.

The calico's eyes still hadn't strayed from the Thunderpath. Graystar heaved himself up after her, leaving the remainder to stay put. They shifted nervously into defensive positions, eyes locked onto the undergrowth and the tunnel. When he finally got up beside her, he knitted his brows together. His snout wrinkled in revulsion at the smell. His orange hues traced the surface, following her gaze.

After a pause, he said, "I don't...see anything."

"Follow me," she murmured, voice void of emotion. She began to walk onto the Thunderpath, her pads burning on its uncomfortable surface. Hesitantly, the aged tom followed suit.

They'd nearly reached the middle, when—

A blazing white light showered upon them, spotlighting their forms.

Graystar whirled to face the source, eyes wide and mouth agape. The molly turned, blinded by instinct, and sprinted at him.

Before she could make impact, however, a blurred figure appeared, grabbing the leader roughly by the scruff. They heaved the gray tabby out of the way, leaving the calico out in the open. Her eyes went wide with alarm as a horrible, muffling roar filled her ears, making them ring and her head throb. Panic sliced through her, making her legs pump faster.

The grass was only several fox-lengths away.

She made one last desperate leap...

"Ch—!"

A scream rang out.

A thud.

Darkness.


	2. Chapter One

**A.N.:** _I want to thank those of you who reviewed so much for your kind words! And I think it's safe to say how ironic it is to admit how speechless and baffled I am at your kindness, haha. You guys are amazing._

 _Just remember that critique is always welcome, hot or cold, and I look forward to seeing your words in the future as this story of mine develops!_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _"Dreams are the touchstones of our character."_ _— Henry David Thoreau_

. . . . . . .

"Come on, Dawnkit! Wake your mousebrained head up!"

She winced at the voice, jolting her from a pleasant dream. The colorful imagery of butterflies and grasshoppers gradually began to evaporate from her mind. Despite the shrill call of a horribly familiar kit, she tried to recall it. Sleep was ever so tempting…

Claws dug into her flank, and a pained cry escaped her mouth. She snapped her head up, eyes wide in alarm. A blurry black blob hovered in front of her.

"Hello? Earth to Dawnkit?" The blob's voice was even more irritating up close. As her vision focused, she was met with the unpleasant surprise of Blackkit's face. He had the audacity to look irritated.

"I'm awake," Dawnkit huffed, rising to her paws. Her legs still wobbled a tad (due to her drowsiness, she told herself), but she relished in the sturdiness they now had. She glared at her brother as he sat back, looking satisfied.

Before she could ask why in StarClan's name he woke her up, another voice filled the stagnance of the den. "Blackkit, next time I catch you using that word, I'm putting you in time out. And don't hurt your sister."

Both kits turned their heads to a ginger-and-white molly, her warm green eyes stern. Beside her, grooming her tail, was a far less bothered tortoiseshell.

This time, it was Dawnkit's turn to look smug. Blackkit ducked his head, ears flattened in guilt. "Sorry, Mottleflower…"

"What word? Mousebrain?" the tortoiseshell snorted, pausing to eye Mottleflower. "Don't make the poor boy feel bad. That's hardly even an insult."

"Funny you would say that, Sorrelfoot," Mottleflower hummed, though her eyes had softened. They often did around her fellow queen. "Aren't you the one that introduced that word in the first place?"

Sorrelfoot gave a dismissive flick of her tail. "You're lucky I know how to watch my tongue. It'd be just _terrible_ if I said the word _'foxdung'_ in front of them—oops," she smirked slyly.

The ginger molly rolled her eyes in exasperation. The two kits gave them both puzzled looks. Before Dawnkit could ask the unspoken question, Blackkit beat her to it. "What's…'foxdung'?"

Sorrelfoot's smirk grew wider. Mottleflower sighed, shaking her head. "Nevermind, love. You'll know when you're older."

"Okay…" Blackkit frowned, disappointed. Then, he turned back to Dawnkit, and gave her a rough shove. "Aaanyway! It's about time you woke up!"

The light ginger kitten looked at him tiredly. She could never keep up with his energy, and he was often an early riser. Being Blackkit's sister was almost a curse. "You're mean. I was having a good dream and everything," she pouted miserably.

The black tomkit rolled his eyes. "Don't whine," he said, using a line his mother used often. "Maplekit's already outside. We've been waiting for _your_ lazy tail since _forever_ ago!"

"Can't you guys go play without me?" she grumbled. She strained against an oncoming yawn, sliding back onto her belly. "I'm tired…"

Blackkit scrunched up his nose, as if what she just said was revolting. Promptly ignoring him, she closed her eyes. The warmth of the nursery was already lulling her back to sleep, her brother's grouchy mumblings a low hum in her ears.

"Wait, aren't you hungry?"

She snapped open her eyes. Wide awake, she fixated him with an excited look. Though Blackkit was known to be stubborn, he did indeed have a way with words.

He grinned. "You're so easy."

"Shut up," she huffed. She got up and looked expectantly to Sorrelfoot, who had resumed her morning grooming.

A particularly annoying scrap of moss was stuck in her tail, and she was having trouble getting it out. This resulted in nearly inaudible curses to be said. Mottleflower was watching her with loving amusement. The two of them were unaware of their kits' hungry, pleading gazes. Only when Blackkit impatiently barged forward and nipped at Sorrelfoot's ear did he manage to snag their attention. The two kits flinched when the tortoiseshell shot them a scalding glare.

"This is what happens when you don't teach them manners…" Mottleflower chided quietly.

"And who said that's my job?" Sorrelfoot retorted. When the ginger molly only chuckled in response, she reverted her attention back to the kits. "Yes?"

"We're hungry!" Dawnkit mewled. Blackkit nodded wildly in agreement.

She quirked a brow. "And whose fault is that?"

Their smiles fell into confused frowns. "Yours…?" Blackkit said slowly.

"I think it's about time you're off of milk altogether," Sorrelfoot said dryly. "I don't want to make you two plumper than you already are."

The two whined, voices rising an octave. Their protesting words mingled with each others, so much so that the queens flinched in unison. The tortoiseshell flattened her ears and bristled, about to scold them. However, Mottleflower beat her to it. "Hush, both of you. What have I said about whining?"

"But, mama!" Dawnkit pleaded, switching her attention to the ginger-and-white. She began to toddle, in an effort to look cute to win their sympathy. It didn't seem to be working.

"No 'but's," Mottleflower said sternly. This earned her a childish giggle from Blackkit. After shooting him a warning look, she continued, "Listen to your mother. You're old enough to eat solid food. All the big cats do."

"But we don't wanna be big cats!" Blackkit groaned dramatically, "We wanna have milk!"

The two queens exchanged exasperated looks.

Eventually, Mottleflower sighed. She rose to her paws and stretched stiffly, fighting back a yawn. "Would you like it if I walked you to the freshkill pile?"

The kits sighed. It was obvious that their mothers weren't going to budge. "Fine…" they grumbled simultaneously. Dawnkit caught Sorrelfoot's relieved blink in Mottleflower's direction before she grumpily stomped after her brother. They both glanced back to impatiently wait for her.

The two queens bumped foreheads, purring softly. "We won't be long," the ginger queen assured.

"I know," Sorrelfoot sighed, giving the queen's ear a brief lick. "I'll come out in a moment to check up on you. And please, for the love of StarClan, don't forget to teach them their numbers. They're _disasters_."

Mottleflower chuckled softly, giving her promise. They shared a final nuzzle, before the ginger queen turned and strode after the waiting kits.

Without so much as another word, Blackkit darted out. Dawnkit, relieved, charged after him. As she broke through tangled branches and bush leaves, minor pain lancing across her face and little body, she could already taste the scent of fresh air on her tongue. She scrambled determinedly onward.

Finally, her maw broke through, along with the rest of her body. The sunlight burned her sensitive eyes, making her skitter to a halt and clench them shut. She felt worn-down soil sift underneath her paws.

After a pause, she cracked open her eyes. Before her stretched the massive clearing of her Clan camp in all its breathtaking glory. Cats of all shapes, sizes, and colors went about their business. All sorts of dens made of varying material lined knotted bramble walls. Beyond them stood the sentinel figures of trees she had yet to know the names of.

Even though she'd been out here numerous times, it was always a lot to take in. This place was her entire world, and it was already so big.

"Eesh, took you guys long enough!" Dawnkit's head turned to the voice of Maplekit. "Any longer, and I would've had to retire to the elder's den!"

Blackkit huffed, approaching her. Dawnkit followed suit. "It was all Dawnkit's fault. She's lazier than a kittypet," he said grumpily, shooting his sister a glare. Dawnkit promptly stuck her tongue out in return.

"Don't call your sister a kittypet, Blackkit," Mottleflower scolded, appearing behind them. The kitten in question guiltily looked at his paws. Dawnkit muffled her giggles behind her paw, while Maplekit just snorted. Their mother didn't seem to find it as amusing.

"Say you're sorry," she said sternly. "Or no breakfast for you."

Blackkit sighed heavily. He turned to face his sister, refusing to meet her eyes. His ears drooped in shame. Dawnkit, who was having a field day, grinned widely. "Sorry, Dawnkit…"

"Thank you for your apology, Blackkit," she said condescendly, reciting her mother's instructions on manners. She teasingly bopped him on the head. He swatted at her paw, twisting his face into a disgruntled expression.

Maplekit rolled her eyes. Much like Sorrelfoot, her tortoiseshell pelt was covered in mostly ginger patches. She was the larger of the two, and infinitely more mature. "So, are we going to play, or…?"

"You can play after you eat," Mottleflower said. She began to walk past them to the freshkill pile, her tail swishing as an indicator to follow.

Obediently, the three rushed after her, though Maplekit in a less enthusiastic manner. Disappointment was etched on her features. Dawnkit couldn't sympathize with her. She'd take eating over breathing, if she was able.

They stood in front of the freshkill pile. An infinite supply of little animals were piled atop each other, each looking absolutely delicious to Dawnkit's eyes. Blackkit looked just as eager to dig in.

Mottleflower grabbed a mouse off the top and set it between her paws. The three kits were unable to keep their eyes off of the delectable piece of kill.

"What's this animal called?" the queen questioned in her "mother" voice, gesturing to the furry brown morsel.

Dawnkit hesitated. She'd had it a few times before, when she was being weaned, but for the life of her, she could never remember the name. She glanced to her brother and sister, trying to see if they knew. Maplekit also seemed to be struggling, her brows knit in concentration. Blackkit, however, was squirming, waving his paw in the air.

Mottleflower chuckled at her son's eagerness, and nodded. "It's a mouse!" he announced. His sisters looked to their mother expectantly. Dawnkit was secretly hoping he was wrong.

"Very good!" she purred, bumping her nose lightly against his. She pushed the mouse in his direction, and he immediately began to dig in. His little black tail was straight up in the air in triumph.

Before the two other kits could protest at the unfairness, Mottleflower grabbed a couple more from the pile. She set them down again. "Now, how many mice do I have?"

It was a battle of wits. Dawnkit raked her mind, desperately trying to remember her numbers. One represented a single cat, she knew that much. But what in StarClan's name were the others? _Come on, Dawnkit, think—_

"Oh! You have two mouses!"

Dawnkit turned to Maplekit, bewildered. How could she remember that? She looked to their mother, whose face of pride told it all—she was correct. Disappointment settled in her belly. She was never going to eat at this rate.

"Mice, darling," Mottleflower corrected gently. "But very good!" She pushed one of the mice in Maplekit's direction, Dawnkit watching longingly as she dug into it.

"How many mice do I have now, Dawnkit?" The question brought her back to the remaining mouse. This was easy. Irritatingly easy. Even a _newborn_ would know this.

"One…" she sighed. Mottleflower seemed to detect her disappointment, and smiled gently.

"You'll get the hang of it, love," her mother comforted, licking her between the ears. She passed her the mouse. "I promise."

. . . . . . .

After their meal, their much-needed game finally commenced.

"Raah! I am Blackstar of ThunderClan! Fear me!" Blackkit cried in the deepest, most intimidating voice he could muster.

He was struggling to stand on his hind legs to appear bigger, flailing his paws in the air. Each time he fell back onto all fours, he quickly tried to get back up to recover his frightening appearance. His sisters weren't the least bit impressed, but games were games, and playing a game means playing your respective part.

"And I'm Dawnstar of LionClan, here to take down your puny Clan!" Dawnkit tried to roar, but came out as nothing more than a loud mewl. Blackkit choked, and had to clamp his mouth shut to keep himself from laughing. The pale ginger kit promptly kicked soil at his paws in retort.

"And _I_ am Maplewhisker, the bestest huntress of the forest!" Maplekit announced, puffing out her chest. "I will starve you both before you can ever lay a claw on my pelt!"

Dawnkit scoffed, whirling to face her sister. "I can squash trees underneath my paws! You, puny huntress, will be eaten whole!" She stomped her paws in the dirt to enunciate the statement.

"Yeah! And my scary claws can catch your long fur!" Her brother added, kneading his paws at the ground.

Maplekit sassily turned up her nose, as if they were nothing more than insects. "Hah! You two have the brains of mice! You could never catch me."

"Oh, yeah?" Blackkit prowled forward, rocking his shoulders. A devious look was on his face.

Dawnkit stepped back, knowing exactly what he was going to do. Maplekit seemed to know, as well, for she faced him fully, hackles raised. This was typical of them. Dawnkit, on the other paw, had never been really into physical play-fighting. It was too messy, and often ended in someone crying. That "someone" being mostly Blackkit.

Just before the black tomkit could pounce, a yowl split the air.

All three kits jolted at once and spun around. Panic shot through the little pale ginger kit as she snapped her attention to the source.

 _Highrock._

Perched on its ledge was a massive gray tom, eyes the color of leaves casted in sunlight. White covered his gigantic paws, before crawling up to his chest and muzzle. It took Dawnkit a moment before she could recall his name: Nettlestar. ThunderClan's proud and admired leader.

 _"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!"_

His voice was booming, and reverberated throughout the camp like a roll of thunder. On cue, cats began to flow in the direction of the Highrock.

Dawnkit turned back around to see that Blackkit and Maplekit had gone. She frantically searched her surroundings with her eyes, before realizing where they were located. They were huddled up close to Sorrelfoot and Mottleflower by the nursery. Obediently, she dashed toward them.

She skittered to a stop in front of Sorrelfoot, who licked her ear in greeting. She purred in response and curled up to her chest, keeping her eyes on the gathering cats. She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, when—

"Brownpaw, Dustpaw, step forward," Nettlestar commanded, eyes focused on the center of the huddled cats. It frustrated Dawnkit that she couldn't what was happening, and she squirmed impatiently. Sorrelfoot rested her chin on her head to cease her.

Then, the crowd parted, giving the family a full view of the apprentices as they strode forward. A tall brown tabby molly was standing alongside a shorter, paler brown tabby tom. Despite their relaxed bodies, she could see excitement flashing in their amber hues. On the edges of the gathered cats, nearby, were two older cats. Pride was written on their features. _Those must be their mentors,_ Dawnkit realized.

"I, Nettlestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices," Nettlestar began. The gathered cats swayed gently in beat to the ancient, ceremonious words. "They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn."

He flicked his attention to Brownpaw. "Brownpaw, do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Brownpaw's solemn expression split into a confident smirk. She puffed out her chest, and said without waver, "I do."

"And you, Dustpaw?"

"Of course," Brownpaw's brother was far more formal, and simply nodded his head as he made his promise.

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior names." A beat. Dawnkit leaned forward, anticipation clawing at her very soul. "Brownpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Brownstorm. StarClan honors your skills as a member of this Clan, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

The newly named Brownstorm dipped her head, body shaking. She whirled to face the crowd, a jubilant look on her face. All at once, they began to chant her name. The mass of voices filled Dawnkit's chest with an unfamiliar, almost powerful feeling, and it was over far quicker than she would have liked.

As the voices died out, Brownstorm exited the center to join her Clanmates. One of the cats, who she assumed was her mentor, head-bumped her affectionately.

Nettlestar continued the ceremony smoothly. "As for you, Dustpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Dustfang. StarClan honors your skills as both a warrior in battle and as a hunter of this forest, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

Dustfang broke into a smile, and he dipped his head. The gathered cats chanted his name as he remained there, as if taking it all in. Then, he rejoined his sister, and they both laughed and nuzzled each other in congratulations.

The ThunderClan leader nodded, leaping off of Highrock. He beckoned them forward once more, much to the siblings' embarrassment, and set his chin on their heads in turn. He stepped back, warmth in his eyes. "You two will sit vigil tonight. No food, no speaking. Understood?"

They nodded simultaneously, and Nettlestar flicked his tail. "This meeting is dismissed." With that, the cats departed.

The three kits whirled to face their mothers, eyes wide with astonishment.

"They messed up the order of that ceremony," Sorrelfoot observed, frowning. Mottleflower chuckled beside her.

"Those two were so excited, I honestly don't blame them. A warrior's ceremony is always the most amazing, and important, milestone of one's life," the ginger molly responded, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"That was _amazing!_ " Dawnkit squeaked, hopping up and down. Blackkit was equally as excited, and Maplekit only wriggled slightly to express her delight.

The queens gazed down at their kits. Sorrelfoot snorted dryly, though there was a teasing lilt in her voice, "I hope to see you three up there someday. No doddling."

"Oh, hush," Mottleflower giggled, nuzzling her. "Don't rush it. Two moons will become six in the blink of an eye."

"But I want to be a warrior now!" the pale ginger kitten huffed impatiently.

"Believe me, love, you will be. But part of being a warrior is being patient," Mottleflower assured. She got up slowly, and Sorrelflower reluctantly did the same. "Now, come along. It's time for your nap."

All of the kittens groaned at once.

The queens rolled their eyes. Sorrelflower dipped down to grab Dawnkit by the scruff, and in turn Mottleflower plucked up Blackkit. Maplekit, though her face was scrunched up in frustration, didn't have the heart to argue as she was nudged and herded back inside the nursery.


End file.
